Reciprocity
by colour me impressed
Summary: Most women left their boyfriends because they wouldn’t say they loved them. Of course, only he would fall in love with the woman who jumped ship at the first sign of affection.
1. Chapter One

He'd lost her. The one thing in his life he couldn't live without, and _he'd driven her away_.

Clark held his head in his hands, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The loft was warm, and the sun was shining brightly through the window—the complete opposite of what Clark felt. He felt cold and numb; the excruciating pain he had felt when she turned away from him had run its course for today. Clark supposed he should be thankful for the slight reprieve, but he couldn't. It wasn't for lack of trying, though.

He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, leaning back into the couch as he stared at the nondescript ceiling of the barn. He should have known that was going to happen. For God's sake, she avoided him for a month when they had almost kissed at Chloe's wedding (though, in her defense, she was caring for Jimmy) and she basically ran away for two weeks when they _had_ kissed for the first time.

What did he think she was going to do when he dropped the 'L' bomb on her?

Clark hadn't even entertained the idea that Lois would reciprocate the statement and proclaim her undying love for him. That just wasn't what Lois Lane would do. However, in the five seconds after he had realised his mistake and before Lois had reacted, he had hoped that she would have stayed—at least explained to him that, while she did care for him, she didn't love him the same way he loved her. Hell, the scenario didn't even have to go like that! He would have been fine if she had asked him to bottle up his feelings, bury it deep inside of him and forget the situation even happened—as long as she had _stayed_.

Apparently, that was a little too much to hope for.

Clark laughed humourlessly when he realised the irony of the situation. Most women left their boyfriends because they _wouldn't_ say they loved them. Of course, only he would fall in love with the woman who jumped ship at the first sign of affection.

Along the line, his laughter turned into dry sobs.


	2. Chapter Two

_Clark tried concentrating on the screen and fought to keep his fingers gliding along the buttons of the controller—and failed. How was any man with a pulse supposed to keep their eyes off Lois when she was dancing like _that_?_

_Exactly. They couldn't._

_Lois swayed her hips in time with the music that the TV emitted and Clark found his eyes glued to the motion; he wanted to tear his eyes away, lest he be regarded as a disgusting pig, but he found that it was impossible.  
_

_Since his eyes were preoccupied, he didn't notice the smirk spreading her lips as he missed a set of notes. She quirked a brow smugly and looked over at him. "I think the only keys you should be handling are your house keys, Smallville," the brunette taunted, her voice causing Clark's eyes to jerk up to her face._

_"__You aren't playing fair," he said, forcing himself to regard and focus on the television screen._

_He heard her scoff indignantly. "How am I not playing fair? I'm not even standing in front of the TV anymore."_

_"__I can't concentrate when you're in the room," he grumbled, frowning as his peripherals caught Lois _still _dancing to the music. (Her dancing had toned down slightly—only slightly, though.)_

_"__Pretend I'm not here." Clark couldn't see her facial features very well, but he swore he could hear the smirk in her voice._

_"__I can't do that," growled Clark, all too aware that their current conversation was a role reversal of one they'd had before. When he missed yet another bunch of notes, he turned and released the Guitar Hero controller, letting it drop onto the sofa. "I give up. You win."_

_Clark turned his head to look at Lois, watching as her smirk transformed into a full-fledged grin. "I always win," she told him arrogantly, propping one hand on her hip. She'd finally stopped dancing—Clark wasn't entirely sure about whether he should rejoice or mourn the fact._

_"__You never fail to remind me," he said, glaring at her._

_She made a noise of amusement. "Also, don't forget that everything you can do, I can do better," she added teasingly._

_Clark grunted in response._

_Lois only laughed more, removing the space between them. She wrapped her arms around his waist as a sort of peace offering. "You know you like my flaws."_

_"__They're reasons why I love you, Lois."_

_It had been so easy to say—left his lips with such ease—that Clark only realised his mistake when Lois' form became rigid against him and her arms went limp._


	3. Chapter Three

He told her he loved her and what did she do? She made a bad excuse and _ran away_.

Who did that?

Wait—she did.

Lois dejectedly poked the softening ice cream with her spoon. She'd lost her appetite immediately after she'd finished trying to justify her hasty getaway. She'd tried telling herself that Clark had left her behind on many occasions—that she was allowed to do it once in her lifetime. However, 'tried' was the key word here.

Lois knew very well that, this one time, had the tables been turned and she was the one confessing any feelings of love, Clark would not have spewed out one of his infamously lame excuses and made for the closest exit. Regardless of his emotional stance, Clark would have stayed.

She hadn't given Clark that luxury.

But, the real kicker to this sad story was that Lois did love him back. She knew she sounded like a cliché straight from a bad romance novel, but she loved him with every cell in her body. Clark was the Harley _she'd_ been saving for—he was her Jonathan. Yet, instead of nurturing their relationship, the intensity of her feelings, coupled with Clark's confession, had simply scared her and forced her to retreat.

Lois refrained from banging her head against the nearest wall. She'd messed up real bad this time; and it was very possible that she might not be able to fix this problem like she normally did.

She suddenly jolted out of her slumped posture, almost jarring her tub of ice cream from her lap and onto the floor. She might not fix this—she might lose Clark. The unbearable thought spurred her into action. Unceremoniously dumping the ice cream container on her coffee table, uncaring that the foodstuffs within would be melted and entirely unappetising by the time she returned, Lois grabbed her car keys and sprinted out of the Talon.

Clark was not going to be her Eurydice.


	4. Chapter Four

He was going to bury his heartache in his job.

He'd done it twice before―once as a Daily Planet reporter and once as the Blur―so Clark knew it was guaranteed to work. It had to work. If it didn't, if he didn't hide his love for her underneath a thick, impermeable blanket, then he and Lois would be forever stuck in the awkward limbo between friends and lovers. And Clark was selfish; he'd rather have Lois as his friend, and still in his life, than not at all.

He needed her for his survival.

While working to dull the pain―even for a moment―was unhealthy, it would ensure that Lois would stay in his life, therefore ensuring his survival. And wasn't that was mattered the most, in the bigger scheme of things? His survival, so he could protect the Earth from the dangers that lurked within its shadows?

So, maybe attempting to salve the wounds with his responsibilities was unhealthy for him, but it wasn't unhealthy for the people of Earth.

Clark began this practise at the barn, fiddling with the apparently irreparable tractor. If he kept his hands busy, if he kept his mind entirely focussed, Clark realised the thoughts in his mind concerning Lois were silent. They weren't gone―sometimes, they would pop up and torment him when he caught sight of something that reminded him of her, or when he somehow connected one seemingly harmless thought to another and another until he was thinking of her again―but they were easiest to ignore when he was occupied.

Clark only dreaded nighttime and unconsciousness, when his hands were still and when his unoccupied mind was vulnerable to attack. He dreaded the nightmares that were sure to come.

The sound of tires on gravel alerted the raven-haired man of the presence of a visitor. Reaching for the rag draped carelessly on the tractor's bumper, he wiped his grease-stained hands clean before throwing the rag onto the machine's hood and walking out to greet the visitor. Clark guessed that it was Chloe, here to comfort him and talk to him about his most recent loss or scold him for freaking out Lois with his accidental proclamations of love.

Clark halted in his tracks when it wasn't Chloe's car that was parked in his driveway and his heart lurched in his chest when it wasn't the blonde who stepped out from said car.

"Lois."


End file.
